The Christmas Coupon
by JJJJ12
Summary: Molly must rush her Christmas shopping this year and settles on homemade additions to her friends' unoriginal presents. When she decides on a cheeky offer for Sherlock, she knows the detective will never use the gift. Until he does.
1. The Christmas Party

Molly Hooper's December had been terribly busy. The festive month, one that she normally celebrated with a reverent cheer and an endless jolly mood, had instead been filled with calamity after calamity. From the minor flooding in her flat, to Toby's upper respiratory infection that had required more than a few trips to the vet, along with an ill-timed maternity leave for one of Molly's colleagues, Erica, which filled Molly's work load to the brink, the end of the year had been pure madness.

This unexpected turn of events completely flipped how Molly normally celebrated Christmas. She had fallen under the spell of the holidays at a young age, meaning she was the type to start hanging decorations nearly at the same time the shops did. Usually, every December 1st, her flat was ready with a gorgeous wreath on the door, along with candles to match every Christmas scent from sugar cookies to freshly fallen snow.

Of course, with more hours at work and time to devoted to her flat or Toby, celebrating had taken a back seat. Her decorations had barely made it up by December 15th, and on December 20th, a mere five days before Christmas, a startling thought crossed Molly's mind. She was lounging on her couch, finally enjoying a day off and a good Christmas classic like _Love, Actually_ , sipping on hot chocolate, when she realized the dreaded truth.

She had yet to purchase Christmas presents for everyone.

No, not even everyone.

She had purchased gifts for _no one_.

Christmas as a deadline was bad enough as it was, but in order to get her gifts to her mother and brother's family in Bristol, she'd need to post them out like…

Today.

Her necessary parcels aside, she also had a gift exchange planned with Meena and a few other girlfriends on the 21st, St. Bart's Secret Santa on the 22nd, along with John's holiday party on the 23rd. With the endless list of people to buy gifts for, she let out a frustrated cry and grabbed her purse, before hurrying out the door.

So much for relaxing and enjoying the season.

-x-x-x-

Well, thankfully in the age of big box stories, Molly had managed to finish all her Christmas shopping with visits to just three shops. But even as she hopped off the tube at her stop, her hands filled to the brim with shopping bags, she felt dead inside.

Molly hated easy gift-giving. In fact, if there was anything she prided herself on, it was spending hours upon hours, figuring out the perfect gift to give to the people she loved. And seeing their faces when they opened the gift never stopped her from smiling. For instance, last year, she had absolutely nailed it. She gifted her brother tickets to see Bristol City, given her mum a signed copy of _Outlander_ , the first book in one of her favorite series, and found a vintage dress for Meena that fit her current bohemian style.

In fact, usually the only person she struggled to find a gift for was Sherlock. And as she entered her flat and dropped her bags, she knew this year was potentially the worst of them yet.

Of course, when it came to Christmas, Molly wasn't exactly filled with fond memories for the man. As much as she loved him (even if she desperately had convinced herself she hadn't), she would never forget the hurtful words he spewed at her, even now, so many years later.

But, with a shake of her head, she turned on some Christmas music and began to empty the shopping bags, eying her purchases with dissatisfaction.

Her bags were filled with impersonal oddities—candles, plain jumpers, calendars for 2019, tins of gourmet biscuits, scarves—the sort of things Molly _loathed_ gifting _and_ receiving. But with so many gifts to purchase, wrap, and post out, she had no choice but to take the easy way out.

So that's exactly what she did.

-x-x-x-

On the morning of the 23rd, thankfully this year a Sunday, Molly was thrown against her sofa, nursing a slight hangover. She was thrilled that she had posted out her family's gifts in time for a Christmas delivery, as well as survived her gift exchange with her mates and St. Bart's dreaded Secret Santa. The girls seemed happy with their gifts, even if she had only wrapped some fancy candles and scarves, and Nicholas from IT seemed none too displeased with the portable mobile charger he had received.

Molly was equally satisfied—she had received a lovely batch of gifts from her friends, including a nice jumper, some caramel popcorn, a new handbag, and a cute lipstick—as well ticket vouchers for the cinema that her Secret Santa at work had gifted her.

So, she was two-thirds of the way through her Christmas nightmare. All that was left was her party at John's this evening.

With a groan, she sat up and stared at the five, perfectly wrapped Christmas gifts sitting under the tree. The first, a candle, was for Mrs. Hudson. Then, she had a pair of gloves for Lestrade, a jumper for John, a doll for Rosie, and scarf for Sherlock.

She whimpered.

Yeah, she was displeased with her choices. What was more impersonal than a bloody navy jumper from M&S?

Jumping to her feet, she knew she had to add something. There had to be a way to spice up her choices.

Could she buy more? She snorted at the thought. As if she was stepping foot in a shop with only two days until Christmas. She could always claim additional gifts were lost in the mail but…

Then a brilliant idea crossed her mind. She hurried over to her desk and ripped open a drawer, immediately digging through the clutter until she encountered a stack of beautifully blank card stock.

She had just the thing to personalize her gifts. She had made loads of them when she was little, always handing them out to her parents, grandparents, and brother. Surely she could do the same with her closest friends.

With a smile, she dropped to her seat, immediately digging into a container of colorful pens, humming along to the tune of _All I Want for Christmas is You_.

-x-x-x-

Molly was glad the party was at John's new home. While it would make getting home after a few drinks more difficult than if it were at, say, Baker Street, she always hated repeating the walk up to 221b, wearing heels with presents in her hands.

Too many bad memories.

Thankfully, however, John's party had been loads of fun so far. He had introduced his new girlfriend, Hannah, who was just lovely, and had been quite the host. Molly enjoyed animated conversations with Mrs. Hudson, who appeared to have overindulged on the spiked eggnog, as well as Lestrade, who filled her in on a rather exciting case from the previous week.

Even Rosie had made an appearance before being whisked away by a babysitter, allowing Molly to press a wet kiss to her goddaughter's cheek.

And then there had been Sherlock.

As expected, he looked dashingly handsome in black trousers and a button-down shirt, although instead of his usual blue, white, or purple, he was wearing a stark red. Perhaps John had nagged him into enjoying the Christmas spirit.

She had spoken to Sherlock briefly, as the man had preferred to stew in the corner, glaring at most of the party goers. After a while, she much preferred to chat with a willing participant over Sherlock, who seemed to have been sending her menacing glances since the moment she walked in.

But, eventually, after guests started filtering out, Molly insisted on having her friends open their gifts before their departures.

Lestrade was up first. He ripped into his beautifully wrapped box with little abandon. After tossing the lid, he examined the gloves with a smile.

"Oh, thanks Molly! These are perfect. Even have the special fingers to use on tech." He laughed and set the box by his feet, before noticing the golden envelope attached to it. After a quick glance at her, he pulled the piece of cardstock out and read the words quickly, "One Christmas Coupon valid for a round of drinks on Molly Hooper."

Lestrade chuckled and grinned. "A Christmas Coupon?"

Molly bit her lip. "Yes. So, whenever you're feeling a bit lonely or could use a drink, just call me up and you can redeem your coupon."

"I see! Well, I'll certainly hold onto this." He joked before tucking the slip of paper into his wallet.

Molly grinned. She was off to a good start.

Next was Mrs. Hudson, who cooed over the lavender scented candle Molly purchased, before reading her own coupon. "One trip to the spa for a girl's day? Oh, Molly, why you shouldn't have!"

"But I wanted to," Molly interjected quickly, smiling at the older woman, "You deserve a chance to relax and be rejuvenated. So, whenever you're free, call me and we'll go together."

Mrs. Hudson practically beamed. "As soon as I get back to London after visiting my sister, I'll be using this!"

Molly laughed and nodded, before turning to John. "Now you, John."

The shorter man smiled and grabbed his box, quickly opening the present. He held up the navy jumper and looked it over. "I love it, Molly. Hannah says I look great in blue." He glanced at his girlfriend and offered her a wink.

Quickly setting the box aside, he grabbed his golden envelope and pulled out his coupon. He cleared his throat and proceeded to read the message aloud. "One Christmas Coupon valid for an evening of Molly Hooper's babysitting services."

John grinned at Molly. "Oh, now this is perfect. Hannah and I always need another date night. You're incredible, Molly."

She blushed and waved her hand. "It's nothing, John. Just try to let me know as soon as possible and I'm all yours."

Finally, as John fiddled with his gift, Molly looked to Sherlock. The man had been settled into one of John's armchairs, watching the gift exchange with little interest. But as all attention shifted to him, he sighed.

"Molly, you really didn't need to give me anything," He explained, before accepting the box from John, "It really wasn't necessary."

Molly bit her lip. "Yes, well, I also didn't need that second glass of wine but here we are. You're my friend and I like getting my friends gifts."

He simply nodded and began to open the gift, although frustratingly slicing the tape and pulling the paper slowly, finally sliding the box through the folded paper instead of just ripping the wrapping off like a normal human being.

She watched, her stomach flipping nervously. She knew he'd receive the scarf with little excitement and probably offer her short thanks, then proceed to never wear the gift. She was more worried about the coupon.

Her brainstorming process for everyone else had been rather easy, most of the coupons featuring something she'd enjoy also—drinks with Greg, a spa trip with Mrs. Hudson, and an evening babysitting Rosie were all events she'd have a grand time at.

So, for Sherlock, she followed a similar thought process. But she also knew he'd never use the coupon, no matter the redeemable value.

Maybe that's why her final choice had been so…

Ridiculous.

She glanced back to Sherlock as he pushed through the tissue paper, eventually grabbing the scarf. He looked over the cream-colored accessory and back to Molly.

"Thank you. It's very nice." He explained, before setting the box aside, the golden envelope sitting on his lap. With the same frustrating style as before, he carefully opened the envelope.

With the card in his hands, he studied it for what must have been at least thirty seconds. Molly felt her face go hot. Finally, he glanced back at Molly, his face unreadable.

John rolled his eyes. "Well? What's your coupon for, Sherlock?"

The detective cleared his throat. "It's my Christmas present, John. I didn't ask what size your jumper was."

With a nasty glare, John grabbed the card stock from Sherlock's hands. He glanced at it and read it aloud.

"One Christmas Coupon valid for a shag with Molly Hooper."

Silence filled the room, followed by intense laughter. Molly swallowed and started laughing along, her eyes still focused on Sherlock, who looked anything but entertained.

John slid the card back to Sherlock and patted his back. With another laugh, he wiped away tears from his eyes. "Wow, mate, that's a bloody good gift! You should thank Molly."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John and looked back to Molly. She bit her lip and forced a laugh.

"Oh, lighten up! It was a joke," She squeaked out, her cheeks hot, "I knew you'd never use anything I'd give you, so I figured I'd give you something especially outlandish."

He blinked. "I see. And what makes you assume I'd never want, say, a round of drinks on you?"

Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes. "Oh, Sherlock, please! As if you've used anything any of us have ever gifted you for Christmas. Molly's right, dear. No matter what she gave you, it would simply go over your head."

"What a shame too!" John pipped in, his body still shaking with aftershocks from his laughter, "You could really use a shag too!"

Sherlock growled. "John, stop it."

Eventually, the remaining guests soon moved to leave, and Molly was kind enough to help John and Hannah clean up a bit. Eventually, however, it was her time to go, and Mrs. Hudson insisted on Molly sharing a cab with her and Sherlock.

So, with an exchange of goodbyes, she was following Mrs. Hudson outside, Sherlock by her side. As they moved along John's perfectly manicured front lawn, she glanced over at the man.

"Sorry about earlier," She explained, her cheeks reddened by embarrassment and wine, "I hope I didn't embarrass you. I just thought it'd be a silly joke of a gift."

He cleared his throat. "No offense taken, Molly. It was a thoughtful gift, no matter your reasoning."

She simply nodded and climbed into the car. As soon as he was settled beside her, she couldn't help but continue their conversation, "Besides," She started, before clearing her throat, "It was kind of nice mortifying you for once."

His face remained unreadable. He simply glanced out the window and nodded. "Then perhaps it was the perfect Christmas gift, Molly. An eye for an eye."

Molly frowned. "That wasn't my intention. Look, I…" She bit her lip and rubbed at her face, suddenly wishing she hadn't written any bloody cards, and especially that Mrs. Hudson wasn't sitting in the front of the cab, "I gifted my friends what I thought they needed. Mrs. Hudson needs pampering. Lestrade needs to have some fun. John needs a break."

Sherlock turned away from the window and watched Molly, his eyes curious. "I see. And what exactly do I need, Molly Hooper?"

She blushed and looked away, suddenly unhinged under his intense gaze. "Relief from that ginormous brain of yours. Sex is certainly one of the best forms of relief there is."

He remained silent and turned back to the window. Molly sighed.

"Right. I should have just bought you a pack of cigarettes. Maybe then you'd actually use a gift I gave you."

The rest of the ride was finished in silence. By the time Molly was back at her flat, she tossed the rest of her cardstock in the bin, deciding homemade gifts were stupid.

Next year she'd buy everyone popcorn tins.

 _ **To be continued…**_


	2. Valentine's Day

For the first time in Molly Hooper's life, she was happy for Christmas to end. Most of her life had been spent desperately trying to extend the holiday season, but after her tumultuous year, she was ready for whatever the new year would bring.

That being said, she did have an enjoyable holiday. She spent Christmas Eve with Meena and her family, enjoying her home away from home with one of her closest mates. They shared hot cocoa and fresh gingerbread cookies and regaled each other with tales of the season and the year. She had received lovely gifts from her family, and of course regretted not being able to join them, although she promised that next year she'd make the effort.

And, to her surprise, her Christmas coupons had been a hit. Lestrade redeemed his on the 27th, inviting Molly out with most of the Met after a particularly arduous case. And while Molly had purchased the first round, she had more than a few drinks gifted. All and all, it was a fun evening.

On the 28th, John redeemed his coupon, having Molly watch Rosie for most of the day, as he whisked Hannah off on a day trip to the country. Molly was thrilled to sit in his home, playing with Rosie and the plethora of toys she had received from Father Christmas.

Then, on the 29th, Mrs. Hudson returned from staying with her sister, and asked to redeem her coupon. So, Molly and the older woman spent the afternoon at a local spa, enjoying an invigorating massage and a facial that Molly swore added years back to her life.

But, now the 30th, Molly was winding down from her back to back celebrations and fun with friends. By all means, she enjoyed her mates and especially loved the content of the coupons (re: alcohol, an adorable baby, and a spa day), but she really needed just an evening to herself.

This was especially true as the following night, on New Years' Eve, she was due to attend a party at Meena's flat, sure to keep her up and wild until likely 3 in the morning. So, a night spent watching only Netflix and eating Thai takeaway seemed like the way to go.

As she spooned another forkful of noodles into her mouth, she couldn't help but wonder how she had saved her gift giving reputation. Sure, Greg or John would never question Molly's generosity if her gifts were ever impersonal. They weren't those type of people. Well, mainly because they were of the male variety.

But Molly certainly would question her decisions. It would eat her alive. She failed, hadn't she? She was at the level of popcorn tin gifting.

Yet, thinking back to their smiles and laughs when those coupons were gifted and redeemed, Molly decided that maybe, just maybe, she had stumbled onto a new Christmas tradition.

Until she remembered Sherlock.

She promptly coughed on her mouthful of noodles.

What in god's name had she been thinking? Had she really gifted Sherlock a coupon offering a good shag? Or did dream Molly give that?

 _No_ , she immediately thought, _because if dream Molly had gifted it, he would have already redeemed it._

More than anything, she was deathly afraid that she had offended him. It was silly to think that something as innocuous as a slip of card stock could ruin their friendship, especially after all the traumatizing shit they had been through, but it didn't make Molly feel any better nonetheless.

Now, she had the privilege of waiting for their next interaction, a conversation or exchange of information that would surely be uncomfortable enough to make Molly wish she had simply baked everyone a batch of Christmas cookies.

And since his coupon was the only remaining one of her friends in London, another thought crossed her mind.

 _What if he did redeem it?_

She promptly laughed and returned to her Thai takeaway.

Now _that_ would be a Christmas miracle.

-x-x-x-

As it turns out, she didn't need to worry about Sherlock's reaction. He simply… disappeared. She had seen him during the first week of January, rushing into her lab to pick up a lab report, leaving them to exchange only a handful of polite words.

When he disappeared, she wouldn't see him for another six weeks. She was told later by John that he was in Ukraine, or Georgia, or somewhere in that vicinity, dealing with a conflict with the Russians.

Molly wasn't terribly interested since word of Sherlock's more… dangerous cases always put her on edge. But she nodded and listened to John, at least somewhat pleased that even if she couldn't be around Sherlock, enjoying his intellect, it'd at least spare her the awkwardness of wondering how they'd move past her silly gift.

It wasn't until the last week in January, as Molly finally boxed up the remaining Christmas decorations in her flat (she just hated putting away her fuzzy Christmas blankets—they were comfortable _and_ adorable), that she realized one small detail of her only interaction with Sherlock that year.

It was possible she was misremembering. And even if her memory was right, it wasn't that big of a deal. Yet…

It felt like a big deal.

She dropped onto her sofa, letting Toby jump onto her lap.

That afternoon, only mere days into the year, Sherlock had strolled into her lab, clad in his Belstaff and…

The scarf she had gifted him for Christmas.

Surely it hadn't meant anything.

 _Right?_

-x-x-x-

February rolled around much faster than anticipated, and then somehow, it was already Valentine's Day, a painful reminder of just how pathetically single Molly was.

So pathetically single that she had gifted one of her closest mates a coupon for a free fuck.

Molly rarely thought about the coupon anymore, only occasionally reminded of it whenever she babysat Rosie, or saw Greg, or really anything that by extension reminded her of a chilly December evening. But for all intents and purposes, she had virtually forgotten about it. It certainly helped that she hadn't seen Sherlock in weeks—radio silence was rather good for trying to forget something that was mortifying in nature.

So, as she had celebrated every Valentine's Day since her breakup with Tom, her last real boyfriend, she planned an evening to herself. She grabbed Indian takeaway, a carton of her favorite chocolate gelato, a set of fancy bath bombs, and an extra package of batteries, just in case the ones that came with her favorite vibrator (a Christmas gift to herself) ran out.

She wasn't quite sure if this was a bloody fantastic way to celebrate the holiday, or a rather pathetic one given that she was in her thirties.

At any rate, by the time she had finished her dinner and an episode of _Grey's Anatomy_ , she was mentally prepared for a bubble bath, gelato, and a squealing orgasm when the familiar noise of something rattling her door knob caught her attention.

She tensed, immediately trying to figure out what could be used as a weapon, you know, assuming some nut case was trying to break into her flat.

That was until Sherlock simply opened the door and strolled in, looking far more rattled than usual.

But she was right.

A nut case was breaking into her flat.

She squeaked and turned the television off. "Sherlock! What in God's name are you doing?"

He appeared mildly perturbed. "Entering your flat?"

Molly pinched her nose. "You can't just come into my flat!"

"Since when? I always have."

Well, he wasn't wrong there. He used to be a staple in her flat. Until Tom. But then once Tom was out of the picture, again, he'd appear.

But it had been approximately seven weeks of silence. She hadn't even gotten a goodbye!

"Sherlock, you scared the crap out of me! I didn't even know you were back in London," She explained, suddenly conscious of the ratty t-shirt and sweat pants she was wearing, "So a heads up would have been lovely."

He nodded. "I see. Well, I've returned to London."

She really hated him sometimes. "Yes. I can see that."

"Wonderful."

They stared at each other for a few moments. Their interaction seemed odd to Molly. Normally, the Sherlock that dropped by her flat was filled with excitement or rage, ready to dive into the details of a beloved case or simply to rant about the inadequacies of Scotland Yard.

But this Sherlock…

He seemed tired. Weary.

And maybe that was because he had just spent weeks in some of the coldest, most unforgiving parts of Europe.

But even then. A silent Sherlock was never a good Sherlock.

"Is there a reason you dropped by?" She asked, casually returning to her sofa.

He studied her for a few moments, frozen in place, before beginning his normal routine. In a meticulous fashion, he pulled off his leather gloves, one hand at a time, followed by his scarf.

A cream-colored scarf that Molly had most certainly gifted him for Christmas. And before she could even throw a mental celebration, off came his trusty Belstaff, leaving him in a delicious blue button up and a pair of charcoal trousers.

Yet, she still hadn't gotten an answer. Not until he hung up his coat, slipped out of his shoes, and finally padded back into her sitting room.

"Truthfully, I didn't expect you to be here."

Molly blinked, rather surprised. Where else would she be at 8pm on a Thursday evening?

She echoed the same sentiments. He notably tensed.

"Well, it's that holiday with the hearts and fat cherub."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Okay. It's Valentine's day. And?"

"I just assumed…"

"That I'd have some fancy date?"

He cleared his throat and nodded. "You seem like the type to enjoy the holiday."

"Do I really?"

He shrugged. "Well, yes, that, and John mentioned that you had a _'hot date'_."

Molly blinked and laughed, momentarily wondering where in God's name their friend had gotten _that_ idea from. That was, of course, until she remembered the brief conversation they had shared over the weekend.

" _Any plans for Valentine's Day, Molly?" John asked, before shoving another forkful of eggs into his mouth, "I'm taking Hannah out for dinner and a show. We need someone to watch—"_

 _And she knew exactly what would come next. While she loved watching Rosie, she didn't need to be reminded of her singleness on the saddest day of the year while watching someone else's child as they had the time of their lives._

" _I have a hot date!" She chipped in, her face flushed as she thought about her intense plans of eating ice cream and using a fancy vibrator, "I just met him. Sexy bloke. You know."_

 _John simply nodded and continued eating. "Ahh, I see. Well, I hope your date goes well! Now I just gotta figure out what to get Hannah. Do you think she'd like—"_

Molly looked back to Sherlock and bit her lip. "Well, John might have exaggerated a little bit."

Sherlock simply nodded.

Somehow, they were back to silence.

Molly cleared her throat. "So… You were just going to stay in my empty flat? I'm sure you'd much rather prefer spending the evening at your own flat as opposed to mine. Unless of course you blew up your kitchen or let a scorpion loose." She shifted, "Again, I mean."

Sherlock shrugged. "I just thought it would be… Nice." He glanced at Toby, who was now moving between his legs and making obscene purring noises, "You know, seeing the cat."

For once in her life, she was at a loss of words during a conversation with Sherlock. "Right. So. You wanted to stay in my flat because of…" she paused, considering his words, "Toby?"

"I… Yes. The cat."

Molly groaned and rubbed her face. "Look, Sherlock, if this is about the coupon, can we please just discuss it like normal adults—"

Her words died in her throat as he produced the offending gift from a trouser pocket, holding out the fancy card stock. Molly swallowed and hesitantly grabbed it, her shoulders deflating.

"Right. I'm sorry. It was stupid and childish." She sighed and glanced back at the paper before walking towards her bin, "Let's just forget about it. Please."

Sherlock followed. "What are you doing?"

"Throwing this away," she explained curtly, for some reason as irritated with him as she was with herself, "I suppose it's better you returned it versus regifting it." She even had the nerve to laugh.

He cleared his throat. "I wasn't returning it."

Molly froze.

Surely, he didn't mean….

She whipped around, staring right into his wide, and she now noticed, nervous blue eyes. A nervous laugh of her own escaped her lips.

"Uh… Sorry?"

Sherlock sighed and shifted in place. "You suggested that I was returning your coupon. That is incorrect. I'm redeeming it."

Molly choked and glanced back at the coupon. Maybe she was misremembering. Maybe instead of shag she had written "conversation" or "slap" or "petting Toby" with Molly Hooper.

Yet there it was, in her neat handwriting, clear as day.

 _One Christmas Coupon valid for a shag with Molly Hooper._

"You're redeeming this?" Her voice was barely a squeak.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Yes. I am. That's the point of the gift, is it not?"

She nodded rather comically, still glancing between the card stock and the man in front of her, "Yes but—"

"Don't bother. I heard it all from Mrs. Hudson. How I don't appreciate gifts, all of that babbling. And it's simply not true. My mother gifted me caramel popcorn last Christmas. I'll have you know that I ate the entire tin before January began."

Molly blinked.

She was being compared to popcorn.

Sherlock cleared his throat yet again. "And Mrs. Hudson got me an engraved lighter one year. I used that until I quit smoking. John bought me some throat lozenges. I used those."

"I don't—"

He continued speaking. "I use my Christmas gifts if I like them. It's why I never wear the jumpers my mother gifts me or even pretend to like the ridiculous fuzzy socks Mrs. Hudson always tries to force down my throat."

Sherlock shifted, his attention directly on her. "I'm using your scarf because it smelled like you when I left. It was comforting when I was so far away, being able to bask in lavender and elderberry."

Her mouth dropped open. She managed to squeak out an "oh".

"And then the coupon…" He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, "My god, Molly, the coupon! You couldn't offer to clean my kitchen? Run an after-hours autopsy? You had to offer a bloody shag?"

She flushed and looked away. "I just never thought—"

He laughed, forcing her to swallow her words. "You lot never fail to underestimate me. I'm a man, Molly. Why in god's name would I turn down a free shag with a beautiful woman?"

She finally looked back at him, her face suddenly hot. "Are you serious? Do you need me to list out your mixed signals or…?"

Sherlock shook his head and took a step forward. "Alright, I suppose in the past I may have been…" He struggled to find the words and instead continued on, "So, maybe it was freezing my arse off in bloody Tbilisi, but all I kept thinking about was you."

Molly couldn't help but laugh. "Me or shagging me?"

"Well, both. Between the bloody scarf that smelled like you and the promise of a shag, what else was there to think about?"

She was torn between jumping him and punching him. She wanted to celebrate his desire to fuck her while also be angry that he well… was being Sherlock.

"Fine. Then let's start the redemption." Yet, her words indicated she was anything but fine.

He watched, an eyebrow quirked, as she pulled off her t-shirt, showing her white lace bralette. He swallowed, although met her gaze.

"You seem…" He was at a loss of words, "Put off."

Molly snorted and stepped out of her sweatpants, now standing in just her knickers and bra. "Me? Put off? Why on Earth would I be put off? You're redeeming my gift, aren't you?"

Sherlock scratched his head. "Yes well… You appear to _not_ want me to redeem the coupon."

She couldn't help but shove him. "Because…" She groaned and looked down, "Dammit, Sherlock! This… This isn't about a coupon, okay? I gave it to you because I knew you'd never use it."

He blinked. "I'm not following."

Molly shook her head and frowned. "I don't want to sleep with you."

At his frown and shifting form, she rushed to continue speaking, "Not once anyways! I don't want a quick shag to fulfill this stupid sheet of paper and then… nothing."

He studied her quietly. She swallowed and stepped towards him.

"Sherlock, my feelings for you, despite warnings from my brain and virtually everyone around me, have never changed. I can't do this. Not if it's just to redeem a bloody coupon."

He simply nodded and moved back to her entry way, grabbing his coat. Molly froze, every muscle in her body tensing.

Sherlock was leaving because all he wanted was a stupid shag. And she was the bloody moron that offered it just to take it away.

But, instead of slipping into his coat, he reached into one of the pockets and produced a small sheet of paper. A receipt, if she had to guess.

She only managed a blink before it was handed to her.

"Here. My belated Christmas gift to you."

Molly glanced at him, cautious. "It's the middle of February."

He sighed. "Please read it."

She looked at the receipt and then back to him. "Sherlock, I don't care that your cuppa at Heathrow cost you four pounds or that you had a bloody blueberry muffin for breakfast."

He groaned. "The other bloody side, Molly."

She turned the crumpled sheet over, immediately recognizing Sherlock's messy but iconic scrawl. The black letters were hard to miss.

 _One Christmas Coupon valid for a relationship with Sherlock Holmes*_

 _*non-transferable and only valid in the city of London_

Molly blinked and looked back at the man, mouth agape. He offered a small, very Sherlock smile.

Finally, she produced words.

"You… you want to be with me?"

"Yes. Hence my coupon. If you feel the same, you're welcome to redeem it."

Molly swallowed and glanced back at the crumpled receipt.

Then, she moved.

In just mere seconds she had shoved the white sheet into his trouser pocket, before throwing herself into his arms. She met his lips with a hungry enthusiasm that she could probably blame on both three years of celibacy and almost a decade of unrequited love for the man.

Thankfully, Sherlock responded with his usual determination, his lips and tongue joining hers for a rather robust embrace that made their journey to her bedroom far more difficult than it needed to be. That, and the fact that Toby followed their every movement, causing Sherlock to almost trip over the cat at least three times on his way through the flat.

By the time they reached her bed, Molly had pulled his shirt off, dropping her mouth to his pale chest. She placed soft kisses along every one of his cuts and scars, her hands however straying to play at his belt. He managed to unclip her bra, his face featuring the same type of focus as if he were evaluating a crime scene.

Now straddling his lap, Molly let his mouth stake claim on her chest, his soft lips pressing desperate kisses over the soft mounds and smooth skin. She pulled at his dark curls, internally celebrating the ability to finally mess up his bloody perfect hair.

"Oh, Sherlock," She managed to cry out, her fingers pulling at the soft strands of his hair, "This beats ice cream and _Grey's Anatomy_."

He hummed against her chest and let his hand slip into her panties, his fingers immediately digging into her wet flesh. She let out another cry.

"and you, dear Molly Hooper, certainly beat Mycroft's droning and the Tbilisi winter," He rasped out, his lips continuing to attack her skin as his fingers dug into her flesh.

Molly cried out and grinded against his lap, enjoying the feel of his hardening cock against her ass. She moaned and considered his words, wishing the bloody perfect man had a better way to offer her what he surely thought was a compliment.

Thankfully, there was little time to dwell on Mycroft or Georgian winters, as Molly soon landed on her back, her knickers being whisked away in the process. She only managed a "hrmpf" before Sherlock's warm mouth was between her legs, attacking her aching core with a fury that only lit her on fire even more.

It was if in mere moments his warm tongue and exquisite fingers had brought her world crashing down, filling her body with the type of warm satisfaction and satiation that a man had never, in all of her sexual partners, ever gifted her with.

Of course, that left an ever-smug Sherlock with a shit-eating grin, one that forced Molly to sit up and move to rid him of his trousers. With the last article of clothing between the two removed, she wrapped her hand around his cock, enjoying the pulsing heat of his thick length.

She let out a content sigh.

Of course, Sherlock would be well-endowed. It was another reason for her to love the man.

Big mouth, big cock, all the same.

Sherlock moved back over her, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, rather passionate kiss, one that was in stark contrast to the previous ones that they had shared that evening. Gently nudging her legs open, her pushed in, his thick length slowly filling her.

"Christ, Sherlock…" She moaned out, her legs wrapping around his hips, "Fuck, that's so good."

He groaned and kissed down her chest, momentarily pausing as he bottomed out, his cock now fully seated inside of her. He let out a rather delicious grunt.

"God, you better never give out one of those coupons again."

And then he began to move. And by God, did he _move_.

Molly could only manage desperate gasps and handfuls of curls as he pounded into her, his lips leaving sloppy kisses all along her face and neck, his voice wavering in and out.

"You know how much I like attention," He hissed out, continuing his unrelenting movements, "so no more coupons. No more promises of favors. Not without terms and conditions."

She wasn't sure if she should laugh, or cry, or scream. He just continued to fuck her, his hips pounding into her as if his life depended on it, all while issuing orders that were as sexy as they were infuriating.

"God knows Greg might get ideas," Sherlock grunted out, running one of his hands down her stomach to play between her legs, "So no more coupons."

Molly let out a babbling cry and nodded eagerly as she saw stars, Sherlock's wild thrusts and playful tweaks between her legs sending her over board. Within moments, she felt his own release, and nearly cried out again at the sensual sound of Sherlock Holmes losing himself in her body.

He collapsed beside her, his breathing ragged, but his arms still wrapped around her quivering form. They shared a soft kiss before settling into the sheets.

After a few moments of silence, Sherlock was the first to speak.

"Just to confirm, you redeemed my coupon, correct?" He asked, his voice more relaxed than Molly could ever recall.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, you bloody idiot, I redeemed the coupon. You're now contractually obligated to be in a relationship with me."

He pulled her closer and kissed her neck. "Can I have my coupon back? I'd like to save it for future use."

"Nope. You said no more coupons."

He groaned. "For our idiot friends. Not for me. I want many coupons. Coupons for nice dinners, coupons to watch crappy telly, coupons to kiss every inch of your skin…"

She shivered at that. "Then I want coupons too. Massages, evenings where we watch movies I want to watch, you actually cleaning."

Sherlock grumbled but nodded. "That's a deal, Molly."

The pair kissed and settled into the bed, slowly drifting off. Until, Sherlock spoke again.

"I do enjoy the scarf, but for future Christmases, I do very much like popcorn tins. Caramel is nice, but so are the chocolate covered ones."

Molly rolled her eyes and simply rolled over, straddling Sherlock.

"So, in the future, popcorn over sex?"

He grunted and shook his head. "No, that was not my point and you know it!"

She smirked and kissed him. "Hush, hush, Sherlock. Let's enjoy the rest of the holiday."

And so, they did. Over, and over, and over again.

It turns out she didn't lie to John. She did have a hot date that night. In fact, when John eventually found out about their relationship a few days later, she received a coupon of her own from the friendly doctor.

 _One Coupon valid for John Watson to babysit Sherlock Holmes when the miserable sod becomes too much, and you need an evening to yourself._

Molly laughed. She had a feeling that was a coupon also destined for redemption.

 _ **The end**_


End file.
